Clara of the Snow
by ILoveTennant10
Summary: Snow White AU


That beautiful, starry night could have been one of celebration and joy, instead it was a night that would be remembered as one of grief and loss for the eighteen years to come. That night a princess was born, but a queen was lost.

* * *

**"****Is she not wonderful, Clara?" implored Clara's father as he motioned to something out of her eye line**

. Clara's eyes followed his, although she knew perfectly well of whom he spoke of. She could feel her mouth turn over in distaste at the object of the king's affections. Lady Cassandra had waltzed into their lives, whittled her father to her liking, then had somehow gotten him to beg for her hand in marriage. All actions which turned Clara's miserable little life upside down again. Had her mother still been alive this never would've happened. Lady Cassandra wouldn't be sticking her stupid nose into her family's life, her father wouldn't be acting like a love sick puppy, and she wouldn't have to be wearing horrible itchy dresses to her new mother's wedding.

The wedding had gone, like most things associated with Lady Cassandra, perfectly, much to Clara's distaste. The reception was lavish and frankly a bit too much if you asked Clara, but ever since her father met Lady Cassandra, no one asked Clara anything. Her opinion had had little to no importance in planning of the wedding, which was probably best for Cassandra, as Clara would've made her wedding the worst.

The halls of the castle were strung with expensive red silks, around which were woven chains of the rarest flowers in the kingdom. The halls were decorated to a minimum to clash with the luxuries in the ballroom where the festivities would take place. A large golden chandelier hung over the shining stone of the castle floors, floors which were being danced upon by equally luxuriously dressed people. Not everyone was dancing through, hundreds of guest sat in the hundreds of jeweled throne-like seat that lined the perimeter of the ballroom. The king, Clara's father, and his new queen sat on a their high backed thrones at a large table laden with rich foods and wine. On the kings side sat his closest friends, some kings from other kingdoms, and the kings sister, Jacqueline. On Cassandra's side sat Clara, and other gossiping, self-centered women, as well as Cassandra's own son, Charles, who was nicknamed Chip.

Clara, at fourteen, had always thought weddings to be quite magical, and had many times planned out her own wedding. In this case though, the wedding was anything but magical. Everything felt forced and wrong. The king's bleary look and Cassandra's somewhat sadistical smirk, made her stomach turn and she felt like being anywhere but the ballroom. She could tell that her aunt, Jacqueline, had also sensed something was wrong, as she kept on giving her brother side stares. As Jacqueline caught Clara looking at her, she gave her a tight smile, before turning to her husband, Peter, and whispering something in her ear. Clara knew her aunt felt somewhat uncomfortable seeing her, as it brought back memories of Jacqueline's own daughter, who had supposedly not been heard of for over fifteen years. Clara half halfheartedly returned the smile before lowering her eyes to her untouched goblet. A hand with bitten finger nails reached over to place itself on her leg. Clara started, nearly jumping out of her seat. She hastily brushed the hand off her leg, knowing it belonged to Charles, her now stepbrother. She sent him a withering glare, warning him against repeating the action. He sent her his own glare, before turning his body so that it faced the dancing, but his eyes remained glued on her form, making Clara increasingly uncomfortable. Which prompted her to commence her habit of tapping her feet in nervousness. Cassandra caught the motion, "Stop that tapping, you little brat," she hissed.

Clara's own rage grew. "You aren't my mother, you never will be, so don't tell me what to do."

Cassandra's eyes hardened, and she lent forward, with a smile on her face, to stare into Clara's own eyes. "I never said I was your mother, nor did I say I wanted to be. So watch your mouth, princess, and never talk back to me again."

She felt her mouth move against her will, forming words she had barely even thought of saying. "I will talk back if I like."

Cassandra gave her a tight lipped, amused smile, before quickly reaching forward to knock Clara's goblet onto her dress. She jumped up, her dainty hands raising themselves to cover her red painted mouth in mock shock. Clara stared wide eyed, feeling the wine soaking into the fancy dress, her cheeks heating up as she looked out into the crowd of guest who had all turned their attention to the "accident".

Cassandra remover her hands from their place over her mouth, barely concealing her smile, as she placed a tight grip on Clara's upper arm and pulled her forcefully out of her seat.

"Oh darling, here, lets get you cleaned up," she said in a saccharine tone, dragging Clara behind her while heading to the closest door. Two servants came forward to help Clara with her dress, but Lady Cassandra wave them away, assuring them that she could handle it. Clara looked behind catching Charles's horrible grin, and her aunts panicked look.

Jacqueline had seen the incident, and was very well aware that it had been no accident, and that Clara wasn't being led away to get her dress cleaned up. Yet she didn't stand to follow, feeling Peter's strong hand on her arm, preventing her from getting up. She turned to her husband. "Pete, she-"

"I know , Jacqueline, I know," he whispered. " But we mustn't intervene. We must never intervene."

* * *

Later, Clara and Lady Cassandra returned and took their designated seats. Clara seemed unharmed, but her normally mischievously lit eyes were devoid of emotion. Her body was stiff as she stared out at the vibrantly dressed dancers, her feet flat on the ground, and her hands folded in her lap. After that day, she never spoke back to Lady Cassandra, at least not vocally. She could feel the bandages on her back smother the stinging of the fresh lacerations on her back.

Clara couldn't wait for the day to be over.


End file.
